“Of course you can.”
He looked down and started fiddling with his fingers. “Why didn’t you marry my daddy? I mean, I like Daddy Lester, but I’m just wondering.”
Rachel sighed. “Baby, you know me, Lester, and your daddy all love you to death, right?”
“I know.”
“Me and your father not marrying had nothing to do with you. I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger. And sometimes we hurt people so much that they can’t forgive you.” She was glad Jordan was too young to remember all the dirt she’d done, let alone the custody battle.
“So you hurt my daddy?”
Rachel didn’t know how to answer that. She didn’t want to lie. “Mommy did some things she’s not proud of. You remember when you threw that baseball through Mrs. Logan’s window on purpose because you were mad?”
He nodded.
“Well, after it was over, you regretted that. I did some things that I regretted, too. But know this: No matter what, you will always be the most important person in our lives. Understand?”
Jordan smiled for the first time in a long time. “Yeah, I understand.” He took a sip of his cocoa, then stood up. “I’m gonna go back to bed.”
Rachel stood and watched him head to the door. “Jordan?”
He stopped and turned around.
“No more problems at school, right? We straight?”
Jordan nodded. “Yeah, we straight.”
Rachel turned out the kitchen light and watched her son make his way back to his room. He looked like such an angel. She hoped their conversation had gotten through to him and resolved whatever problem he was having. But for some reason, her gut was telling her her problems with Jordan were far from over.
Chapter 6
Rachel wiped the sweat from her face. “Okay, boys and girls, take it from the top!” As one of the students hit the music to the song “Stomp” by Kirk Franklin, Rachel began counting the kids down. “Step, step, slap, step, slap, slap, turn around, slap.”
She led them in the steps for a few minutes before stepping back and watching them finish the routine themselves in front of the church sanctuary. She had more than twenty kids on the step team and all of them were at practice tonight. She wished she could get Jordan to participate, but—of course—he had no interest in doing anything church related.
Rachel smiled as the stepping calmed down and a young man with cornrows took the mike off the podium.
“Give it up! Give it up! Give it up for my G-O-D!” He then proceeded to rap while the steppers behind him clapped along. “I’m shooting straight from the hip and it’s plain to see. Can’t nobody mess with the power of my G-O-D.”
“Good God Almighty.”
Rachel turned toward the four church members standing in the back of the sanctuary.
“Is he rapping about God?” mumbled Birdie Mae Canton, one of the deacons’ wives. She had a look of absolute horror on her face.
“What has this world come to?” her cohort, Norma Jean Woodruff, asked as she clutched her chest.
Birdie Mae stomped to the front. She looked twenty years older than she actually was. It was probably the flowered dress that hung on her robust frame. Or maybe it was the hair, which was pulled back so tightly in a bun that it slanted her eyes. “Sister Adams, please tell me what is going on,” she spat.
“What does it look like?” Rachel responded in as nice a voice as she could muster. She motioned for the kids to keep going.
The boy continued to rap. “If you feeling God like I’m feeling God, let me hear you say, ‘oh yeah.’ ”
“Oh yeah!” the kids behind him shouted.
All four women continued to stand with their mouths open. “It looks like these chilluns done lost their mind.” Birdie Mae spun on them and clapped her hands together. “Stop it! Stop that rapping, stepping, and blasphemous noise!”
Rachel took a deep breath. “This is our new step team, Sister Canton.”
“Step team? What do we need a step team for? This is church, not some fraternity,” Norma Jean interjected.
“I know that, but I told you one of my goals was to make this congregation more appealing to young people. And I’m sorry, but this is what young people like.”
“Rapping? Stepping? In God’s name? You think that’s okay?” Birdie Mae asked in disbelief.
“I sure do.” Rachel turned back to the kids. “Okay, one more time from the top.”
The kids looked nervously at Birdie Mae. She taught many of them in Sunday school, so Rachel was sure they were nervous about proceeding against her wishes.
Birdie Mae shot the kids a mean look before turning back to Rachel. “Sister Adams, we stood by and watched as you came in here and cut out the announcements, cut out the devotionals and the testimonies, in an effort to, may I quote, ‘cut the service time.’ Heaven forbid we should give the Lord more than two hours on Sunday morning. Then we stood by and watched as you started some youth group bringing in wayward girls from off the streets. We even allowed you to unnecessarily bring in a huge band to accompany our already talented choir.”
Norma Jean leaned in. “And don’t forget about her getting rid of the choir robes. Got everybody looking all mismatched.”
Birdie Mae nodded. “Of course. And let’s not even get started on the drama ministry, as if we need to act out a show for God. You did all of that with little protest from us, but this is going too far. I, for one, will not stand by and let you desecrate this church. Your mother would never have done something like this. Not only are you setting a horrible example for young people, but you are not honoring God with this nonsense. No, this will not happen.”
Rachel had had enough. This was exactly why she didn’t want to be first lady; technically, she should be able to handle this situation with style and grace. But she wasn’t feeling very graceful right about now.
“Look here, Birdie Mae, I ain’t my mama. That’s number one. Number two, there’s a new sheriff in town. And I do things differently.” Rachel calmed herself down before continuing. “As first lady, I am in charge of the church program and our youth. And I say the program was too long and our youth are too bored. So we will step, dance, rap, act, and whatever else it takes to get them involved. And if you don’t like it, well, let’s just say Mount Calvary is always looking for new members.”
Birdie Mae clutched her chest. “I have been a tithing member of this church for thirty-two years!”
“And I have been first lady for one. While we appreciate your years of service, if you can’t respect our changes…well, that’s just too bad.” Rachel didn’t give her time to respond. She turned back to the children. “Okay, Joseph, that was a good rap. Let’s try it again with a little more energy.”
She ignored Birdie Mae and her flunkies as they stomped out of the church, mumbling what Rachel was sure was a mouthful of threats.
Chapter 7
Angela toyed with her now-cold coffee. She hadn’t been able to think straight for the past week, ever since she’d gotten Jonathan’s outrageous demand that he have joint custody.
“So, girl, what you gon’ do?”
Angela’s head jerked up. She was so engrossed in her own problems, she forgot she was sitting here with her girlfriend, Constance. They were at Starbucks in Buckhead for their standard Saturday morning meeting.
“Huh?” Angela responded.
“I said, what are you gonna do? I mean he is Chase’s father,” Constance said.
“I don’t care,” Angela said, bringing her attention back to her conversation. “I am not about to let my child be around my homosexual ex and his boyfriend.”
“Or girlfriend.” Constance giggled.
Angela eyed her high-school friend. “Ain’t nothing funny about this, Constance.” Constance was her girl, but she could be so insensitive. Still, Angela was grateful to her. She’d opened her home to Angela after the whole fiasco with Jonathan. Angela had initially moved to Wisconsin, but Constance had convinced her there was nothing for
her there and persuaded her to come to the “Mecca” city of Atlanta.
“Chill out, girl,” Constance replied. “I’m just trying to cheer you up.”
“I can’t be cheered up, especially if that bastard thinks he’s coming anywhere near my child.” Angela sipped her coffee and grimaced as the cold coffee slid down her throat.
Constance hesitated, then said, “I’m going to ask this—and don’t get mad or anything—but you don’t think that man has a right to see his child?”
“He doesn’t have any rights as far as I’m concerned.”
Constance was just about to say something when a huge grin crossed her face. “Umph, umph, umph, look who’s walking this way.”
Angela turned and grimaced at the sight of the tall chocolate man with the broad shoulders approaching them.
“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite women,” he said.
“Hey, Lance,” Constance said sweetly.
“Hey, Constance.” He turned his attention to Angela. “Angela, how are you today?”
“Fine, just in the middle of something here.” She glared at Constance, who was kicking her under the table.
Lance looked a little disappointed. “Oh, well, I won’t hold you. I just wanted to say hello.” He started walking off but stopped and looked at Angela. “You know, the dinner invitation is still open.”
Angela nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lance stood in awkward silence for a few seconds before waving good-bye and continuing on to get his coffee.
As soon as he walked off, Constance leaned in. “You think you can be just a little more rude?”
“What?” Angela said, frowning.
“First of all, you are a beautiful caramel queen who looks like she should’ve been a model in another life. And that man is only the finest specimen on the face of the earth. He has a great job, benefits, and a Benz. And as his personal banker, I can tell you he’s never bounced a check. You can’t beat that.” Constance shook her head as she took a swig of her coffee. “How long has he been trying to get you to go out now?”
Angela groaned. “About six months.”
“And explain to me why you won’t go out with him?”
“That’s just not where my head is at,” Angela said.
Constance threw her hands up. “You and this vow of celibacy ’bout to get on my nerves. It’s one thing if you were doing it for religious reasons, but the only reason you’re doing it is because you’re mad at all men.”
“I just don’t want to date right now, all right? Besides, he’s too pretty. He’s tall and pretty like Jonathan,” Angela added, recalling Jonathan’s soft features, flawless light brown skin, and almost-perfect body. Angela eyed Lance at the counter. “And he’s dressed like he just stepped off the pages of GQ. Anybody that puts that much time into his appearance has got to be on the DL.”
Constance lost her smile as she stared at her friend. “You’ve got to stop looking for signs of homosexuality in every man you meet.”
“Whatever, Constance.”
After a few more minutes of silence, Constance spoke up. “Have you given any thought to what you’ll do if the judge orders you to let Jon see Chase?”
Angela shook her head. The thought was just too difficult to even consider. “I will just become one of those women on the run like you see on Lifetime.”
“Come on, you know that’s not the answer.”
“Then what is, Constance? And don’t tell me to compromise and allow Jonathan visitation. Him getting anywhere near my child is not an option!” Angela was serious about that. And nobody was going to convince her otherwise.
“Have you talked to Pastor Hayes?” Constance asked.
Angela rolled her eyes. She wasn’t the faithful churchgoer she used to be. Since God had allowed her to marry and conceive a child with a gay man, her faith had evaporated. “You know he’s gon’ give me that whole forgiveness speech and I’m not hearing that.”
“Well, do you really think you should be moving back to Houston, then?”
Angela weighed her friend’s words. That had to be why Jon was making this custody demand. He must have found out she was moving home. “Trust me, I’ve thought of that,” she replied. “But I’ve already sold my house here. The people who bought it close next week and I start my new job in Houston on the first.”
“Yeah, but you can get another house and another job here,” Constance protested.
“Believe me, I’ve played out all the possibilities. But the company already paid my moving expenses and I bought a new place. If I renege on the job, I have to pay all that money back and you and I both know I don’t have it like that.”
“Yeah, I feel you. I just know being back there will only make Jonathan want to see Chase more.”
“Constance, read my lips: That punk isn’t getting anywhere near my child. Comprende?”
Constance threw up her hands. “Hey, I’m with you. I hope they never let Chase around Jonathan. But I was just saying, be prepared in case they do.”
“Oh, believe me, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. See, I disappeared into the sunset the weak, heartbroken wife. But I’m returning a different woman. And believe me when I tell you Jonathan Jackson won’t like the new me.”
Chapter 8
Jonathan eased open the front door of his father’s house. He spent so much time here, he might as well move in. With his brother David living here, though, and showing no signs of leaving any time soon, that was out of the question. Besides, it probably was best that David was still at home since their dad was so sick all the time. Jonathan relished the peace of his two-bedroom condo anyway.
Jonathan walked down the hallway adorned with photos of him, David, and Rachel at different phases in their lives. He stopped and fingered one of his mother holding Rachel. He and David were standing behind her. Jonathan felt his eyes mist up. How he wished his mother was here. If anybody could get through to Angela, she could.
“I love you, Mama,” he whispered before he continued into the den. David was stretched out across the sofa, deeply engrossed in a telephone conversation. Jonathan could tell his brother was getting frazzled, which meant he was most likely talking to his ex-girlfriend, Tawny. Jonathan knew David struggled each day to stay free of drugs and couldn’t help but worry that he would have a relapse fooling with Tawny.
David had been doing well since he went cold turkey right after their mother died. It was a promise he’d made to his mother and he’d worked to fulfill that promise, even breaking it off with Tawny. He’d gotten a maintenance job at the YMCA and had worked his way up to his current position as assistant director of boys’ programs. Then Tawny had shown up out of the blue a couple of months ago and he’d been in a foul mood ever since.
“Listen to me, Tawny!” David yelled as he sat up on the sofa. “I do not believe you. This is just another one of your hustles. Quit calling me. I’m not gon’ tell you again, just lose my number!” He slammed the phone down.
“Dang, what was that about?” Jonathan asked, finally walking into the room.
“Nothing, man, nothing,” David replied, obviously flustered.
Jonathan studied his brother. David had been heading to the NFL until he tore his anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) his sophomore year of college and had had to give up football. He ended up dropping out of college, working off and on for the state until he was injured again while trying to hang lights for a Christmas function. He’d stayed on disability for what seemed like forever. Then he’d hooked up with Tawny and his life just went from bad to worse. He’d almost overdosed a couple of times and had been to rehab more times than Jonathan could count. No matter what, David couldn’t get that crack monkey off his back—until their mother died. That had been the catalyst to get David to turn his life around. Jonathan hoped his brother wasn’t having a relapse.
“You all right?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Now just get off my back, plea
se.”
“Don’t bite my head off,” Jonathan said as he sat down in the recliner across from his brother. “You just seem a little upset, that’s all.”
“I’m straight. Tawny’s trippin’. I swear, I don’t know what I ever saw in that girl.” David took a deep breath. “What’s up with you? You hear back from Angela yet?”
Jonathan’s mood immediately changed. “Yeah, she went clean off on me.”
David laughed as he relaxed a bit. “What, sweet little Angela?” He seemed to enjoy the break from whatever was stressing him out about Tawny.
“Yeah.” Jonathan nodded. “The woman I talked to on the phone sounded anything but sweet.”
David flashed a sly smile. “Well, I guess finding out your man is on the down low can do that to you.”
Jonathan sighed. He was so sick of people making those little sarcastic comments. “Come on, that was seven years ago.”
“And?”
“And, I’m no longer on the DL,” Jonathan huffed.
“Yeah, that’s right, you’re all the way out.” David snickered. “By the way, have you talked to your man?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes at his brother. By now he should’ve been used to David’s remarks, but they still bothered him. “No, I haven’t talked to Tracy in six months. He’s moved on. And so have I.” Jonathan stood up and walked over to the window to stare outside.
“Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you. Tracy might have moved on, but you sure haven’t. Tell me this, lil’ bro, do you have any regrets?” David propped his feet up on the coffee table.
Jonathan debated giving his brother the standard “everything’s fine” answer, but he had been waiting for an opportunity to bare his soul. “I have plenty of regrets. I regret taking that call from Tracy and causing Angela to walk out of my life.”
“Why?”
“I…I don’t know. My child is not a part of my life. I gave up my life with Angela, and me and Tracy didn’t even work out.” Jonathan tried to laugh, but he couldn’t help but note how pathetic it sounded.
Everybody Say Amen Page 4
